No Kind of Life
by Inusagi
Summary: Ianto Jones has no kind of life worth living. Implied Janto. Oneshot. Complete.


Disclaimer: The lovely Ianto Jones and the infamous Jack Harkness belong to the BBC.

A/N: This oneshot comes with a challenge: It was inspired by a slightly obscure song. If you can guess that song, I will let you request the plot for another oneshot. Your hint: It's an "oldie."

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Jack settled down on the sidewalk next to his battered archivist, exhausted and soaked to the bone. After their foray into the countryside took both Ianto and Toshiko out of the field for a bit and he'd been forced to pick up the slack. Tosh came back a week ago and Ianto a few days later, though Owen refused to clear him for field work.

Ianto worked like a man possessed, though. Not a single file in the Hub was unfiled and the archives were in tip-top shape. Jack had thought it was just Ianto being Ianto until he'd noticed something peculiar—there were instructions on making coffee on a pad next to the coffee maker. They were methodic and detailed, with everything from how to choose the right coffee beans to which cup each member of the team preferred.

So he'd snooped, finding one odd thing after another. A bulk order of Myfanwy's dark chocolate. Alarms worked into the mainframe for feeding Janet. Instructions set up in the archives for their upkeep, at least as detailed as the instructions by the coffee maker.

Jack was curious, but not concerned until he saw Ianto on CCTV, just sitting there in the pouring Welsh rain.

They sat in silence for a bit. He was glad that he hadn't thought to put on his greatcoat. As it was, Ianto's suit was ruined. It was one of the biggest red flags of the evening. The Welshman was vain about his suits, fussed over the slightest smudge or splatter.

Gripped in Ianto's long fingers was his gun. He was absentmindedly, fondly running his thumb over the handle, back and forth. He stopped when he spoke.

"The rain should wash away most of the mess. No one'll have to come up and scrub the pavement like I did with Suzie."

"Were you just waiting for a rainy day?"

Ianto's amused snort was barely audible over the thrumming of the rain. "Hardly. I'd have just gone with my shower, but the rain feels nice. And it's sort of poetic…like the universe crying for me…with me."

For once, Captain Jack Harkness didn't know what to say. Ianto's voice was so calm, so rational. He could have been talking about taking a nice evening stroll, not whether or not someone would have to clean up bits of his brains off the sidewalk.

"I've started the paperwork for you. My suicide note is with it and I've written out instructions for whoever fills in for me. I know I haven't been here very long, but I completely overhauled the Archives and Myfanwy is a bit of a diva if you deviate from her schedule. Owen'll need to add my autopsy results, but then it should be ready to file. I…chose a drawer in the morgue. Hope you don't mind. But it's all cleaned and the supplies are laid out."

Jack's stomach was churning. "Is this because of the cannibals? Or Lisa?"

The younger man sighed. "No, not really. It's more of an accumulation of things. Losing Lisa is a big part, of course, but it's really less her death and more the…reminders I'm seeing everywhere. I went round to my flat in London a few weeks ago, to clean it out. Did you know?" He paused just long enough for Jack to shake his head. "It was so empty. Not just the flat, all of London seemed dead to me. Places we'd passed every day were…different. It was the first time I think I've ever realized how the world just…picks up and moves on when you die. They just kept on like it never mattered that Lisa died, that everyone at Torchwood One that the Cybermen invaded at all."

"People will remember them, Ianto. History will remember them," he tried to console, but Ianto went on.

"I went to Newport too. Saw my sister, her kids. It was more of the same there. And the damn estate is so different now. Even the park I used to play at with my dad has been all redone in plastic and bright colors. Those kids have gotten so big and they barely knew who I was. Rhiannon doesn't even really know me at all anymore, hasn't done in a long time. There's nothing in this world that needs Ianto Jones."

"We do."

Ianto laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Jack, I essentially stalked you for a job, where I've done nothing but deceived you and put your team in mortal danger. I mislead you, lied to you, seduced you. I'd have thought you'd be happy I'm not going to be following you around like a love-starved puppy."

"I can't let you do this."

"You can't stop me." The grip on the gun tightened.

Jack felt panicked, desperate. "I'm so sorry, Ianto. I thought…I thought you were feeling better, that you'd come to terms with everything. I should have made sure you knew how much we've needed you. I should have made sure you knew how much _I've_ needed you. I should have known about Lisa, gone with you to London, anything. Please, Ianto. Don't do this."

"You're not to blame, Jack. I'm just not the same as I was. There's no place for me here, no kind of life. There are too many things that haunt me. Not just the big things, the big regrets—all the small, meaningless things fill me with this kind of…hopelessness. I can't live a life where I'm forced to hide all this pain. I'm not strong enough for it."

"I…You can't expect me to just stand here while you blow your brains out. You have to know that I won't do that."

"Just walk way, Jack. The rain's letting up and it's a bitch to get blood out of this pavement."

Jack didn't have the words to convince him, didn't have the experience or the know-how to talk a man down from the ledge, as it were. He just sat there, gaping like a fish and wishing that he'd paid attention, that he'd seen the signs before the very end. He'd never had the subtlety for this kind of situation, never understood or cared what made people tick in all his years, not here on Earth and not out amongst the stars. He had always been an _action_ sort of man. Act now, talk later.

So that's what he did, slowly pulling his gun out of its holster and gripping it by the barrel.

Ianto, his serene face turned towards the sky, didn't know what hit him when the butt of the Webley cracked his skull. Jack caught him before he hit the pavement.

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Owen barely had time to put away the Retcon before their teaboy came to. Jack watched over the CCTV feed as their medic fed Ianto lies about head injuries and amnesia. They'd wiped weeks from his memories, so that he remembered everything that happened with Lisa but not visiting London during his suspension.

It was a do-over.

_And this time,_ Jack thought as he made his way to the autopsy bay, _I'm going to do right by Ianto. I'm going to erase every sad feeling he's ever had and replace it with happiness._

"So, Mr. Jones, I think it's time you and I got to know each other a little better. What do you think about going to get some fish and chips with me?"

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A/N 2.0: I was originally going to end it…you know, sadly. But I just can't bring myself to kill Ianto. Please read and review, let me know what you think. And don't forget to guess the song.


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